by Kat Leeshue

Upon the rocky shores stood a lighthouse.

A beacon. I crawl onto the shores first, leaving my scales for the pearly skin the men love so much. The waves try to draw me back, but to go back means starvation—and I will not die with an empty belly.

With new legs, I stand and look back at the ocean. Heads pierce the ocean’s veil, their eyes watching as I climb the rocky shore. At the top, the fishing village flicks their lights on. My sisters come to stand with me, naked and waiting for the word.

“Hunt,” I order.


Kat Leeshue

Located in the semi-cold tundra of Canada, Kat Leeshue lives off of iced coffees and Taylor Swift karaoke. When she isn’t writing and reading under the cover of darkness, she’s a Chaos Coordinator of tiny humans. At night, she bullet journals to keep herself (somewhat) organised.

Instagram: @katleeshue

0 replies

Leave a Reply

Want to join the discussion?
Feel free to contribute!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *